


where you at? do you mind if I come through? get you on my level, do you think that you can handle it?

by Splatx



Series: Kinktober 2020 [9]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: "Dub!Con", Alpha Arthur, Alpha Arthur Morgan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Distension, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Female Reader, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Kinktober2020, Knotting, Low Honor Arthur Morgan, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Reader, Oral Sex, Prompt: Dub!Con, Replaced Prompt, Rough Sex, Rutting, Scenting, Somnophilia, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splatx/pseuds/Splatx
Summary: Kinktober 2020, #11: "Dub!Con"“Good Omega,” he pulls back, pressing a kiss far too chaste for the situation onto your lips, “Beautiful Omega,” another kiss, this one on your jaw,"MyOmega,” another, on top of your bruising bonding gland. You shiver, hips twitching, and can’t help but to loll your head back to exaggerate the patch of skin, darkened with arousal and darkening further from his attentions. The sound he makes is pure desperation, and he reaches down to stroke your distending stomach, cock still throbbing and spilling inside of you,“Want you, Omega.”
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947451
Kudos: 143
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	where you at? do you mind if I come through? get you on my level, do you think that you can handle it?

###  _Where you at? Do you mind if I come through? Get you on my level, do you think that you can handle it?_  
~Promiscuous, Nelly Furtado

It hadn’t escaped you that Arthur was gone on you.

He hadn’t exactly tried to hide it, after all. Sniffed after you, trailed at your heels like some sort of pup. Always stuck close to you when you neared your Heat, flashed his teeth at the other Alphas if they so much as looked your way, asked if you were “Plannin’ on takin’ an Alpha this time around?” which you never were, Heating _hurt_ without an Alpha but it wasn’t worth the effort of dealing with one, you didn’t want to waste the extra food you’d be eating if you needed the extra calories - more so than the extra you _already_ ate - and you never were one for relying on others. And every time he’d slump, scowl and still trail around after you, eyes burning holes in your back as you rode off to wherever you’d prepared to spend your Heat.

  
  


_A flicker of cornflower blue in a field of old-hay dirty blond. It's no stranger to your dreams - especially during a Heat._

You twitch, your hips buck.

_But this is different. The pleasure is usually a dull, far away thing. An itch, a compulsion._

Fingers clench tight on your thighs.

_But this is_ burning, _is_ desperation _and_ need. _It hurts so good and—_

A tongue swipes across your lips

_—pleasure shoots through you like a bullet, over and over unlike any dream you've had before, you moan but there's a pressure against your mouth, stifling your noises._

A mouth latches around your clit, suckles relentlessly—

_Pleasure rockets through you._

_You cum. Your thighs clench tight and—_

your eyes snap open, meeting Arthur's baby blues. You convulse, back arching off the bed, only his hand clasped over your mouth keeping you from moaning fit to wake the dead, his tongue lapping at you feverishly as your legs squeeze painfully around his ears.

Even behind his hand, your breathing feels painfully loud as you slump down on your cot, twitching as the last tingles of pleasure run through you.

He gives a final, long lick that has you whining pathetically, too sensitive, before sitting back on his heels, face glistening with your slick, grinning fit to out-mischief a coyote. His tongue flicks out to lick his lips clean and, despite yourself, you shudder, slick dripping down your cunt.

“Arthur, what the hell?” you hiss, and he drops a hand from your thigh and - ow, you’re going to have a bruise there you can tell - brings it up to put a finger in front of his lips in a classic _‘shhh’,_

“Darlin’, I’m already stinkin’ the place up, you wanna risk wakin’ everybody?”

And _oh_ that was what you’d been smelling. You were used to smelling in your dreams - an Omega was _very_ tied to their sense of smell, after all - and Arthur’s scent, as a familiar Alpha, wasn’t much of a stranger to them, but it’d been odd, though now it made sense.

_Rut_ is heavy in the air, thick and heady and nearly gagging you. His scent is there beneath it, pepper and gun-smoke and horse sweat, salt and spring and grass, but only barely - his Rut is overpowering.

And - _damn_ \- you can feel your body reacting. Arch without meaning to, spread your legs just that little bit to present your cunt, fight the urge to roll over and bare yourself to him though you couldn't even if you wanted to, he has a bruising grip on your thigh, you can feel slick oozing down your ass. Arousal boils low in your stomach and, you’re sure, if you hadn’t Heated only a few weeks past he would have kicked it off.

His grin spreads even wider as his nostrils flare, eyes darting between your legs, and your hands fly up to cover your mouth as he leans forward, dragging his tongue along your slit, rumbling a sound pure _Alpha_ that has you returning a purely Omega whine, hips bucking up into him and, despite yourself, you whine a protest when he pulls back. He frowns at the sound, reaching down to palm himself and stares at your cunt hungrily - god, he wants to fuck you, but no Alpha can say no to an Omega - before crawling up to box you in, hands planted beside your head for a moment before he reaches down to adjust you.

“Arthur, stop!” you hiss, but he nips at your neck in warning, teeth skimming along your bonding gland and you see white, go soft and pliant like biology demands, only barely aware of his “such a good Omega, such a beautiful Omega,” as he adjusts you, grabbing one of your legs and bringing it up until there’s a wonderful burning stretch to your lower back, knee nearly to your ear, the other still stretched out beside him.

“Going to be good for me Omega?” he asks as you come back to yourself, eyes wide and pupils blown, and he’s so close his scent is all you can smell, so strong you can _taste_ it, rut and spring and grass and pepper and god but he’s always smelled so good, you loll your head back and offer your neck - he snarls, sets his teeth in and could easily tear your throat out if he only wanted - and whine.

  
  


As he pushes in, he’s gentle. His whole body is tense as a drawn bowstring, and he’s snarling like some wild beast, Rut demanding _fuck-mate-breed_ and some part of you is dully aware that he’s fully capable of it, that though you’re not Heating he’s Rutting and there’s that chance, though small, not nearly as high as if you were Heating and he wasn’t Rutting, not anywhere _near_ as high as if you were Heating and he was Rutting at the same time, but he pushes in slow, letting you adjust to his cock and _god_ if he’s not thick and long, massive as an Alpha should be, and shit how will you ever be able to take his knot?

And then he’s still, shuddering above you, scraping his teeth along the fine bones of your throat, licking and sucking at every one of your scent glands, and you go very still when he _bites_ down so hard on your bonding gland you expect that rush of pheromones, expect pleasure-pain, but then he’s chuckling, sucking so hard you shake and shudder, reaching up to claw at his clothed back until you hear the fabric tear, he’d scared the shit out of you but now it feels good, pheromones trickling but not _rushing,_ not enough to bond but enough to feel _really fucking good._

  
  


And then he’s not so gentle. He pulls back and thrusts into you so hard you squeak, breath knocked out of you, then again, and again, unable to catch your breath as he braces himself, propping himself up on his hands, hair hanging in his face and teeth bared, snarling with each fuck into you. “Arthur!” you yelp as he hits you just right, seeing stars, and he snarls “be quiet!” lowering his head to scrape his teeth along your throat. Your hand flies up, covering your mouth, but still you can’t help but to gasp “Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!” every time you manage to get enough of your breath to do more than whine.

“My Omega,” he growls, one hand sliding down to grip your hip so tight you feel the bone creak, “So beautiful, my beautiful Omega,” he draws back, hesitates, _“Only_ mine,” slams into you so hard you’re shoved up the bed, _“Mine,”_ you’re shoved up the bed again, seeing stars, _“My Omega,”_ the sound more snarl than speech as he slams into you and stills, cock pulsing and filling you with his seed, the base beginning to swell, locking you two together.

“Shi-Arthur,” you protest, trying to pull away before it can swell enough to tie you to him, but he _snarls_ and wraps his arms around you, knocking the breath from your chest as he drops down on top of you before, with a grunted apology, rolling onto his side and bringing you with him, knot tugging at your walls in a way that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. He reaches down, bringing your leg up over his hip, sliding the other between his, trying to make you more comfortable until the tie goes down.

Arthur kneads the muscles of your leg, tense from being up for so long, rumbling a low, protective sound in his throat, before bringing his hand up to thumb your clit where you're stretched around him until you see stars, lunging forward and pulling you into a desperate kiss to muffle your moans as you convulse, clenching and releasing around him, the Alpha panting into your mouth as you milk his tie, still spilling into you, a burning heat that sates you, leaves you loose and tired, relaxing into the kiss.

“Good Omega,” he pulls back, pressing a kiss far too chaste for the situation onto your lips, “Beautiful Omega,” another kiss, this one on your jaw, _“My_ Omega,” another, on top of your bruising bonding gland. You shiver, hips twitching, and can’t help but to loll your head back to exaggerate the patch of skin, darkened with arousal and darkening further from his attentions. The sound he makes is pure desperation, and he reaches down to stroke your distending stomach, cock still throbbing and spilling inside of you, _“Want you, Omega.”_


End file.
